Clay smirked as he eyed the new ensemble. “It’s sexy.”
Melody’s new dress was black with white polka dots that flared out from the waist, hanging loose and flowing down to her calves. She’d got heels to match, ones with black straps that wrapped up around her ankles. Her hair was too thick to wear down without something to push it back, so she’d bought a glittery headband to keep the thick locks off her face. Melody felt very pressed and fancy this evening. Three hundred dollars was more than she’d ever wanted to spend on an outfit, but Jules, armed with Clay’s credit card, insisted Melody needed to look good, and she was inclined to agree.
Melody looked behind them, making sure no one was listening before she told him teasingly, “I bought new underwear too.”
“Too bad.”
“Oh, they’re racy, though,” Melody said proudly. “I shocked myself.”
“Yeah?” Clay’s eyebrows rose, and he tilted his head as if trying to look down her dress. “How racy?”
Melody covered her shoulders with the sparkling black shawl she’d bought to combat the slight chill in the air. She laughed at Clay, who was now bending back, as if the outline of her ass in her new dress would give him a hint of what was beneath.
She looked around once more. It was starting to become a twitchy habit here. It seemed everywhere they went in Las Vegas, someone knew who Clay was. Even if the admirers didn’t walk up and say something, they still hid in corners gawking and whispering. Sure enough she spotted two young men pointing in their direction. They nudged each other, looking hesitant.
“You wanna blow off dinner with the dynamic duo and order room service instead?”
“What?” Melody glanced away from the young men to look up at Clay in surprise. “But aren’t they waiting for us?”
“So what?” Clay asked with a scowl. “I’m still mad at both of ’em. Let ’em eat alone.”
“You should forgive them,” Melody said firmly, feeling new warmth in her heart for both Wyatt and Jules now that she knew they’d been there for Clay when no one else was. “They’re your family, and you gotta forgive family. I forgive my mama for siding with Justin.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t forgive my mama,” Clay said cynically. “And I sure as shit don’t forgive yours. You’re a better person than me ’cause I got half a mind to call her when we get back to Garnet and let her know what I think of her.”
Melody put a hand to her forehead, wondering if she should have let her secrets out to Clay, who took it all very personally. She was still humming from the aftermath of their last time together this morning before life reared its ugly head and forced them apart. Clay and Wyatt had dealt with promotional responsibilities while Melody spent the day with Jules shopping and exploring the wonder that was Las Vegas. Dinner was the first time she and Clay had really spent together all day, and she sure didn’t want to waste it talking about her mother.
“Calling my mama wouldn’t fix anything.”
“Probably not,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t do it, but I like to think ’bout it. I like to think ’bout nailing Justin to a beam in the Cellar and beating on him till he pops too.”
Melody pulled a face. “Ouch, Clay, that’s gruesome.”
“Sometimes I’m gruesome.” Clay shrugged unapologetically. “Sometimes I’m a real mean son of a bitch, and he might wanna take note of that if he plans on coming to Garnet and harassing you.”
“Powerhouse.”
Melody frowned, turning with Clay’s arm still heavy over her shoulder to see the two young men she’d spotted by the casino. They’d obviously followed them. Despite the boldness, they looked nervous as they fidgeted and met each other’s eyes as if proud of themselves for actually approaching Clay.
“That’s you, right?” the shorter of the two asked, looking at Clay critically. His gaze stopped on the taped-up wound on Clay’s cheek. “You’re Clay Powers.”
“Yup, last I checked.” Clay nodded. “Can I help you?”
“Well, um…” Their eyes met, the short one shifting from one foot to the other. “We were sorta wondering—”
“They want an autograph,” Melody finished because Clay seemed impatient, and the boys were looking jumpy. She pulled away from Clay to open her purse. “I stole a pen and pad from the hotel. Hold on.”
“Thanks,” said the taller, gangly one, who was barely twenty-one if not younger. He gave Clay a broad, excited smile. “We were at the fight last night. It was sick the way you took down the Gladiator in the third round like that. Best fight ever.”